


once more to see you

by qrovers



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Time Loop, as a treat, but its also sad, danny pudi tweeted omg, feral trobed, its 4 am author will proofread this later, minor deanjeff n brittannie, they steal a car n learn spanish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qrovers/pseuds/qrovers
Summary: Sometimes the only way to postpone a break up is to enter a time loop.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 53
Kudos: 179





	once more to see you

**Author's Note:**

> i got the idea while i watched palm springs so there might be some similarities! n i was listening to mitski + folklore so this is just a whole Yearning heartbreak mess. it's less time loop n more "two people who are too scared to let go even when they have to" type of fic 
> 
> also, when i get into writing smth as long as this, i tend to overthink n stuff so im sorry if it's a bit..uh...Disjointed n messy haha
> 
> warning: implied death (bc time loop) + sad times

This is how Troy’s last day in Greendale starts: The sun is barely up, it's rays dragging at the foot of his bed. He wakes up too early for his liking, and just basks in the softness of his bed.

He slept on the right side last night, feeling too greedy to get the middle, even though Abed had asked to sleep in the blanket fort. 

Troy tries not to be as hurt about it as he was. He’s the one leaving after all, so he shouldn't be surprised that Abed's keeping his distance. 

He remembers when he agreed to Pierce’s deal. He stayed behind with the lawyers as the rest of the study group, including Abed, who looked backed at him right before he left, spilled out of the room. Troy’s heart felt heavy.

“Let’s get started,” Mr. Stone said, opening up a binder.

When Troy came back home, tired from all the things he had to read, he found Abed sitting in front of the TV, watching an episode of _How I Met Your Mother_. There are empty dishes on the dinner table. 

The first thing Abed said, “Long distance relationships always fail on TV.”

Troy replied, eyebrows furrowing, “Huh?”

“We have to break up.”

He didn’t even think of _that_ . “We don’t _have_ to.”

A pause.

Troy sighed. “At least, not right now.”

Abed was silent. The credits of the episode had stopped rolling. “Not right now?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Troy extended an arm to him, beckoned with a hand and said, “Now, c’mon, it's getting late.”

But today's his last day. 

They’d have to break up at some point.

He opens his eyes. 

If he squints, he can see dust particles floating in the air like snow. He reaches out to touch it, before deciding that that's dumb, and lets his hand flop to the nightstand, reaching for his phone to check the time. 

6:30 am. January 22. Friday. 

Yup, it's his last day. 

He’d stay in bed for a few more minutes, savoring the last time he’ll wake up here, but Annie's already knocking at his door saying in a sing-song voice, “Troy! You don't want to be late!”

#

There's a ‘Bon Troyage!’ banner that hangs on the wall of the study room as a surprise for him. It's littered with photos of him with the group, of him alone. 

He traces a hand over it and looks at it fondly, eyes gravitating to the photo on one of the corners, where he and Abed are sipping milkshakes. He smiles, taking it in, before a giddy Annie holds his elbow and steers him to his usual seat. Everyone else is already there. Except for Abed himself, whose whereabouts are unknown.

However, it becomes known once he issues a campus-wide game of Hot Lava, as the dean explains on the PA system. It sounds like the mic is being forcefully taken from him before Abed’s voice fills the speakers. 

“I forgot what attempt this is,” he sounds dejected, miserable. 

“More monotone than normal,” is what Shirley’s saying. Troy wants to shush her, because Abed’s voice is never monotone, but he has all his attention to the speakers. 

“I think it's the, um,” Abed pauses, thinking. Troy can see some students rolling their eyes in the hallway. Britta looks concerned, saying something about grief or whatever as she pushes herself out her seat and speed walks to the exit as Abed says, “It's the 134th attempt, I think.”

Troy doesn't really follow. He frowns. Attempt at what?

“Whatever,” Abed says, “If this does work, then, Troy, I know you're listening.”

He nods. He always is.

Abed’s voice is clear, and he says the words like he’s rehearsed it a thousand times, “Let's win this. I love you.”

Troy, with a grin slowly creeping up to his lips, whispers under his breath, “I know.” 

#

Abed is really _really_ good at Hot Lava. Like scary good, that-time-he-predicted-Jeff-and-Annie’s-kiss good. He knows exactly when to jump and what to avoid, where the chairs are and who to fake kill. Troy stays beside him at all times, watching him as they tear through a gang of locker boys with nothing but a bunch of broomsticks. 

Troy likes to think they're in a post-apocalyptic homage, something like the ones they’ve simulated a thousand times in the dreamatorium. High stakes (though he's not sure _what_ the stakes are exactly, but he’s sure they're high) and badass action scenes, maybe some screaming in the distance, some lense flares. This would make a _great_ movie. He’ll tell Abed about it after the game.

“You are crazy good at this,” He says in amazement, watching as Abed pounds a fist on a locker. 

An old football falls from the top and he catches it in one hand, before chucking it across the hallway, right as Buzz Hickey is centipeding from it. It hits one of his chair legs, and he falls on the floor in agony. He screams, “Fuck you!” as he stands up, which Troy personally thinks is a little excessive. 

Troy says, “Holy _shit_.” Then, under his breath, “That was really hot.”

Abed hears this and gives him a small smile. “Thank you.”

#

They're alone together, standing on some toppled shelves, holding hands in a dark basement, somewhere that makes Troy’s stomach feel weird. It's familiar, but he's not completely sure why. All his brain can scrape from his memories is ABBA and a deep sense of dread, neither of which makes any sense. They're in a _library basement,_ why would there be ABBA?

They're also the last ones in the game.

Abed said that the lava is real to him, because Troy's leaving. 

Troy looks down on the floor.

He doesn't have the heart to jump. Doesn't have the heart to abandon everything important to him in Colorado, at least not yet. Doesn't have the heart to let go of Abed’s hand. 

He looks at Abed beside him, who's looking down, and makes a decision. 

They don't _have_ to break up, because—

“I’m staying,” he says.

Abed blinks, then looks at him like he didn't expect to hear it.

“I’m staying,” Troy repeats. “I don't think I’m ready to leave just yet.”

It takes a moment before Abed smiles, it's small and soft, but so full of, he can't quite describe it, like, relief? Troy finds himself getting pulled into a kiss before he can even realize what’s happening. 

He wraps his arms around Abed’s neck. When they pull away, he rests his head on Abed’s shoulders, basking in the tenderness. It's a warm and soft hug, and he hears a soft laugh escape from his lips. 

He pauses, then says, “I love you too.”

Abed whispers to his ear, “Cool. Cool cool cool.”

#

Annie hugs him when they get back to the apartment, having read Troy’s message about not leaving. Britta doesn't like the decision, making it very clear in the group text, but he’ll deal with that tomorrow. 

They watch a movie to celebrate, pop popcorn in the microwave and order pizza for dinner like it's a buffet. Troy sits on the chair beside Abed’s, and reaches out to squeeze his hand. It's nice like this, familiar and intimate. He doesn't know how he ever wanted this to change.

They stay up close to midnight. As Annie drags herself to her bedroom, mumbling about being sleepy, Troy sees Abed seemingly forcing himself awake through the third act of the film. 

He taps a finger on his shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, but it's more of a hum.

Troy gives him a small smile. “Let's go to bed.”

Abed shakes his head. “Don't want to.”

“You have to.”

“Have to?”

Troy smiles. “No procrastinating this time.”

A pause. Abed’s not looking back. He seems to be mulling this over, wringing his hands on his lap as his eyebrows scrunch up. Troy pokes his forehead. “What’re you thinking about?”

He doesn't answer right away and just looks at him, studies his face from his eyes to his lips. Then he says, “Can I sleep in your room again?”

Troy nods. “Of course.”

He stands up and holds out his hand, to which Abed grabs and squeezes. They make their way to his bedroom, change into their pajamas, and flop onto Troy’s bed when the lights are closed. His bed feels softer when it's not so empty. 

Abed's still not sleeping, despite the constant yawns he produces. It takes about 5 of them before Troy sits up and opens the lamp beside him. “What is it?” 

Abed shifts and turns to him, frowning.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

He shakes his head. “I just don't want to.”

Troy frowns more at this. “Why not?”

It's obvious Abed is keeping a secret from him. He’s been acting off all day, tired and bored and downcast, like that day _The Cape_ was cancelled times ten. Troy wants to ask what's wrong, worry bubbling in his stomach. He wasn't sure how Abed would respond to him leaving, but it certainly wasn't this. 

Troy looks at him, pausing for an answer but not really expecting one. However, Abed purses his lips and says, “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

And he says _tomorrow_ weirdly, like it's a foreign concept. 

Troy nods. “Okay,” he says, and starts to shift back to his sleeping position before feeling a light tap on his shoulder. 

Abed says, “Can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” Troy replies, sitting up and leaning on the headrest. He extends his arm to the side and ushers Abed into a half-hug, with Abed’s head resting on his chest, on his heart. His hair is soft when Troy strokes it. 

He hears him say, “I hope I see you tomorrow,”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

#

It's a few minutes later when Troy hears a low but loud hum sound, like a speaker playing a song bass boosted, and the floor starts to shake. 

Abed, fast asleep beside him, doesn't stir. 

When it stops, he notices a bright red glow from behind his door. 

His first thought was aliens, ready to abduct and probe his butt for information, and puts a protective arm over Abed. But when he gets up and opens the door, he sees the miniature dreamatorium in the middle of the apartment. It's door is closed, but the glow from inside is so bright Troy squints his eyes and pauses a few seconds to adjust. 

“What the fuck,” he mutters under his breath, before grabbing the cardboard door and swinging it open. 

#

Abed wakes up the same way he has for the last 200-something days. In the bottom bunk in the blanket fort, with the top bunk empty, on January 22, Friday. 6:00 am. 

He frowns. 

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised his plan hasn't worked.

#

Troy wakes up to an empty bed again. He knows this before he opens his eyes because he stretches his arm to the pillow beside him and finds it a void of Abed. He cracks open his eyelids. Not even a dip, no outline on the bed. 

He frowns and sits up, rubbing the sleepiness out his eyes, not even remembering when he went to bed. He grabs his phone from the nightstand and opens it to see the time. 

January 22. Friday. 6:30 am. 

Wait, what?

Troy blinks, turning his screen off then clicking it open again. He rubs his eyes more vicariously until he sees stars. 

It still reads the same. 

There's a knock on his door. Annie says in a sing-song voice, “Troy! You don't want to be late!”

He fumbles out of bed wearing the pajamas he wore two nights ago and swings the door open. 

Annie stands in front of him, shocked, before softening and giving him a smile and a hug, just like she did yesterday. “I’m gonna miss you _so_ much,”

Troy knows. She already told him this.

She pulls back when he doesn't respond, putting her hands on his shoulders and wrinkling her nose. “Is this what you're gonna wear? Not that I’m in charge of your wardrobe but it _is_ your last day and—”

“Where's Abed?” He says, cutting her off. He’d know what’s happening, right? Abed knows everything.

She sputters. “Oh, I—I’m not sure. He left earlier this morning, I think he's already on campus.”

Troy nods, but he’s jumpy. His leg is bouncing up and down and he can't really focus on anything. 

Annie frowns, genuine concern on her face. “Are you okay?”

#

“Are you sure you're okay?” She asks again as they walk in the hallways leading to the study room. 

He’s changed clothes now, trying on what he wore yesterday. Or today? But he's already experienced _today_ yesterday. So yesterday is today, or something. He’s trying not to think about it too much, labelling it as an extreme case of deja vu. 

He nods, but still looks around the halls. “I’m good.”

“Well, you seem ansty.”

Troy racks his brain for where he saw Abed yesterday, trying hard to jog his memory. When he remembers, he stops just as Annie is about to open the door, surprising him with the going away party. Well, it _would_ be a surprise, anyways. 

She stops, following his lead. She cocks her head to the side. “What's wrong?”

“I—um—I think I know where Abed is,” Troy says, jumping and then slowly walking backwards, “Thanks for the banner—and the party, by the way. That’s really sweet,” he says before turning his heel.

Annie shouts, “Troy, _wait!_ ” But he's already running away. 

He remembers Abed issuing Hot Lava from the records room, so Troy heads there with little to no sensitivity to the people he’s bumping into. He’ll apologize when he understands what's happening. 

He arrives at the office, just as the dean is about to announce whatever he deems important that day. Troy stops in his tracks and surveys the area. Abed is nowhere to be found. 

Dean Pelton looks at him with his mouth agape. “Hello, Troy.”

“Where's Abed?”

“Abed? I haven't seen him since—”

“Troy?” It’s a third voice, coming from behind him. 

Troy feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to see Abed holding a plastic bag in one hand. “This is new,” he mumbles, more to himself. “What are you doing here?”

Troy just stands still, trying to form a coherent thought. But all his brain is doing is screaming at him. He says, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

And Abed understands almost immediately. 

#

“Groundhog Day, 50 First Dates, Source Code,” Abed is saying as he opens the Home Ec lab and starts getting pots and pans from shelves without tearing his gaze away from Troy, who’s looking at him with wild eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Troy asks, as Abed put the plastic bag on a counter, pulling the ingredients out. 

“Slow roasted lemon chicken.”

“Doesn't that take 8 hours?” Troy says, “Also, I meant with the movie titles.”

“It does.” Abed answers, then, “They're the ones most similar with our situation.”

“The movies?”

“The movies.”

Troy thinks about this, tries to wrap his mind around it. He can't find the words to say exactly how he feels, so he asks another question entirely to buy himself some time. “What are you wearing?”

Abed nods, knowing what Troy’s doing. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants with bunny slippers. He had sunglasses on, but it's now pushed up to his ruffled hair. He doesn't even look like he showered. 

Abed answers, “It’s to communicate to the audience that I’ve lost all hope using the lack of effort in my outfit.”

Troy finally finds the words he was looking for. “We’re stuck in a time loop!” 

Abed shoots him a finger gun before grabbing a bowl from under the counter and putting the different ingredients in it. He gets a spoon and starts stirring. 

“You know that’s a waste of time,” Troy points to the bowl, “Fried chicken just tastes way better.”

“I know,” Abed pauses, “but I have a lot of time.”

“Because we're stuck in a time loop?”

Abed repeats, “Because we’re stuck in a time loop.”

Troy looks at him up and down, really taking in his outfit. He frowns, “And you’ve lost all hope?”

Abed stops mixing the ingredients. “Yes.”

It makes Troy sad, seeing him like that, hearing him say that. But he doesn't really know what to say and his brain still needs a little bit more time to fully catch up. So all he says is, “Do you need help with the chicken?”

#

The chicken takes 5 hours to roast. 

There's not much to do in those 5 hours. The rest of the study group doesn't know where they are, no one's looking for them, and it's already nighttime. If Troy knows his friends, they probably think they're on a date. 

If only it was that simple. Troy would love to take Abed out to dinner, but he still has so many more questions. 

Like, “can you explain how this whole thing works?” And there's an unsaid plea for the explanation to be clear and concise. But Abed already hears it, despite the words never leaving his lips. 

“So,” Abed leans to him. They're seated next to each other in front of the oven, watching the chicken slowly (very, _very_ slowly) get cooked. “Today was yesterday.”

“Okay.”

“Today is also today.”

“Mhm.”

“Tomorrow will also be today.”

Troy nods, absorbing this. That's probably as clear and concise as Abed can explain the situation, because it is just as insane as it is on the surface. 

“When you sleep, it all just goes back to this morning,” Abed adds.

“What if we go back to the dreamatorium?”

“Going back to the portal—”

“Ooh, the _portal_ ,” Troy cuts him off excitedly, “that sounds way cooler.”

Abed smiles at this. He continues, “It also resets the day.”

Troy grimaces, looking at his hands. He doesn't really want to ask the next question, scared to hear what the answer is, but feels like he has to. “And, um, what about dying?”

Abed doesn't even blink. The answer comes immediately. “Dying doesn't work either.”

“You’ve died?” He responds, not even trying to mask his sadness. 

“Yeah,” Abed says, squinting his eyes a bit like it's a painful memory, “turns out Professor Hickey has a gun in his office.”

“ _What?_ ”

“The chicken’s done,” Abed stands just as the oven dings. 

He puts on big, bright yellow oven mitts and almost slams the tray on the table after getting it. He’s wiggling the gloves off with a pained look. 

Troy looks up at him. “Is it hot?”

“Very.”

And so Troy takes his hands and puts them close to his lips. He blows on them the way his mom used to do for him when his dumb, kid self thought it would be cool to touch the bottom of the breakfast pan. He knows it doesn't do much, but it's the gesture that counts. 

Abed smiles. “Better. Thank you,” he says, pulling his seat back and settling next to him. He gets two forks from under the table and gives one to Troy. 

Troy asks, “So, you tried everything?”

“Yes.”

“And nothing worked?”

“Yup. Making you stay was my last theory.”

Troy tries not to think about how that means he always left. “Well, I stayed.”

“Yeah, sorry. I should’ve known you’d go into the portal.” He looks sad. 

“No, it's okay!” Troy says, “That’s not what I meant. I—I’m glad I’m here with you.”

A pause. 

“Me too.”

He smiles and Troy returns it, before twirling his fork around his fingers for show and then stabbing the chicken breast and stuffing his mouth with it. 

It's zesty. 

“You know,” Troy starts, thinking over what he’s about to say. “We can just skip this part.”

Abed cocks his head to the side. 

“The, y’know, ‘oh no we’re stuck in a time loop’ montage of trying to solve it. We can just, I don't know, skip to doing whatever the fuck we want.”

“You don't want to double check?”

“Nah. I trust you.”

Abed looks over at the chicken, just poking it with his fork. There's a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Didn't you tell me Pierce has a big TV in his mansion?”

Troy nods. “It's the size of his wall— _wait_ ,” he pauses, realizing what Abed's implying. “We need a car to get there, though.”

“Well, Jeff has a late night tonight.”

“Really?” Troy asks, “ _Jeff_ is staying late? What's he doing?”

Before Abed answers, he finally scoops a piece of chicken and eats it. It takes a few chews before he says, “Fried chicken is better.”

Troy nods. “Told you.”

#

The answer is the dean. 

Jeff is doing the dean. 

Troy wishes he covered his eyes when he opened the door to Jeff’s office, wishes he could unsee whatever the _fuck_ they were doing, but no, he had ignored Abed’s warning, and went in unblindly. 

Abed’s waiting down the hall, holding the end of the rope tied around Troy’s waist, like he's about to walk on the moon. He told him to tug it twice if he feels like he's seen too much. Too much seems like an understatement. 

Fortunately, both Jeff and the dean haven't noticed him yet, too busy with..uh, each other to see him at the door. Troy, almost about to cry, tugs the rope with one hand and bites the other to stop himself from screaming, trying not to give himself away. He jolts back and lets himself get pulled across the hallway, getting dragged on the floor. 

When he stops, he looks up to see Abed standing over him, looking apologetic. 

“I told you to close your eyes,” he says. 

“Yeah, well, I’m a dumbass.”

“Do you have the keys?”

Troy closes his eyes. _Right_. That was his mission. “Shit. No.”

“Do you want me to get it?”

Troy shakes his head, standing up. “Nope. I won't let you see what I saw.”

“I’ve seen it before. A bunch of times actually.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Troy says, hugging him. That's so much worse. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Troy pulls back, shakes his shoulders, and says, “Okay, I’m going back in.”

Abed kisses him on the cheek. It's more of a movie thing than it is Abed himself, Troy can tell. “Good luck.”

The second attempt is _almost_ successful, if Jeff hadn't turned around just as Troy got the keys from the drawer where Abed said they’d be. He screamed, Troy screamed back, then sprinted out the room. 

Now, he and Abed are running across the parking lot with a half naked Jeff on their tail. They spot his Lexus up ahead and quickly get in, Troy in the driver’s seat and Abed right beside him in the passenger’s. 

His adrenaline is so high, he’s whooping as the car skids during a turn and drives out the parking lot. 

Jeff's voice is muted when he screams, “What the _hell!_ ”

On the highway, Troy exhales, “Holy shit,” as he drives to Hawthorne Manor.

“Holy shit,” Abed repeats. 

“That was _crazy_ ,”

“Yeah,” he looks over at Troy and smiles. It reaches his eyes in a new way. “But it was really fun.”

Troy smiles back at him. “It was.”

Abed leans from the passenger seat and kisses him during traffic. 

#

They make a stop to their apartment on the way. 

Troy parks behind the building, giddy and running on adrenaline. He feels his heart pounding with excitement. 

“What do you want from the DVD shelf?” Abed asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“It's Friday, right?”

“Finding Nemo?”

“You know me so well,” Troy giggles. He doesn't remember when the inside joke started, or what it originally meant, but it doesn't really matter. A lot of things don't have to make sense when he’s with Abed. 

Troy watches him get out of the car and sprint to the fire escape, sneaking to the window of their apartment and re-emerging from it a couple minutes later, a dopey grin on his face. He shows the DVD to Troy when he gets back in. 

When they arrive at Hawthorne manor, they sneak through a secret path Troy discovered himself so he could avoid the Evil Troll Pierce kept putting in the windowsill of the hallway to his bedroom. It goes around the back and into the kitchen, up the stairs and across the hallway. 

Troy holds Abed’s hand as he leads him. 

(He's been told he wears his heart on his sleeve. So he always pulls the end of his jacket over his hand whenever Abed holds it.)

When he finds the home theater, he watches as Abed’s eyebrows shoot up, his jaw dropping at the sight. He hears him whisper, “Holy shit.”

# 

Troy falls asleep around the second act, his head on Abed’s shoulder. Abed tries to stay awake for a little longer, but finds himself leaning back on the headrest, eyelids getting heavier each second.

He hasn't had this much fun in so long. He didn't even think it could be possible to see his situation as anything but a curse. But Troy always makes everything better. 

Abed wakes up the same way he has for the last 200-something days. In the bottom bunk in the blanket fort, with the top bunk empty, on January 22, Friday. 6:00 am. 

He smiles. 

Maybe it's not all that bad. 

#

They do a bunch more crazy, arguably stupid shit after that. It's nice to know you can do virtually anything you want, not thinking about anyone else. Troy has a bucket list he’d given up on for the trip, he whips it out of the bottom of his closet and tears through them. He has Abed and an infinite number of days. Life can't be more perfect. 

Troy asks if he left Greendale in any of the loops. 

Abed tells him the farthest he got outside of Colorado is at the edge of Nevada. 

They steal Jeff's car and drink a lot of Red Bull, taking turns on the wheel. Troy has a foggy memory of the trip, remembering in the most disjointed way. There's a time where he was covering Abed’s eyes as they drove through the highway, screaming. He also remembers shoplifting at a 7/11, after the cashier said something wildly homophobic.

They make it to Vegas. 

It was a huge waste of time. They both collapse on the bed of their suite the moment they get inside. 

#

They finally learn Spanish. Not the weird Klingon-hybrid Chang taught them. But like, actual Spanish. 

It takes a while, of course, but now the raps they do in the shower are way better now. 

  
  


#

“This cake looks _awesome_ ,” Troy says, pointing on the glass of the bakery. “Abed, look! It's shaped like a _football_ and it has _Spider-Man_ on it. It's a _Spider-Ball_ .” He pauses. That sounded better in his head. “A _Foot-Man?_ ”

Abed shakes his head. “That's way worse.”

“You're right.”

“What about _Friendly Neighborhood Football?_ ”

“—Cake. Friendly Neighborhood Football Cake.”

“Yes, cake.” 

Troy smiles at him before letting out a giggle he's been trying to hide. Abed laughs too. His laughs are colorful, bursts of happiness that just makes Troy glow. He cracks jokes way more often now, trying to lure it out of him. 

“Come on,” Abed says after a few moments, “We’ll miss the movie.”

The movie in question, however, is something they’ve seen a hundred times before. And that's not an exaggeration, since it's one of the few movies in theaters that premiere today. 

The plan came to them about a month ago (his perception of time is, well, a bit wonky), when they were watching a movie in the living room and Abed said, “Why do you think people spoil a movie?”

And Troy looked over at him and grinned. “Let's find out.”

Their first plan was to just shout, “The triplets die!” to the crowd after everyone settles down. It felt a bit cheap, and the all the audience did was boo at them as security ushered them to the exit. 

“That didn't feel as good as I expected,” Troy said.

They’re leaning on the wall in front of the movie theater, the girl at the ticket booth eyeing them cautiously. 

“Yeah,” Abed says. “I feel like we need to put more effort into it.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Now they’re walking to the movie theater a few blocks away, ready to act out the entire film in front of its first audience. It's not like they wouldn't give better performances than the actors. If Troy’s being honest, the movie is not that great. 

Abed goes to buy popcorn to avoid looking suspicious, Troy in charge of getting the tickets. The girl doesn’t recognize him. She’s as bored as she was a few loops ago, so Troy gives her a 100 dollar tip.

Her eyes go wide when she sees him slide it in. “Uh—um.”

“Keep the change,” he smiles as he takes the tickets and heads over to Abed. “You ready?”

Abed gets a popcorn kernel and throws it up, catching it in his mouth. 

“Nice.”

“Thank you,” he says, swallowing. “Let's go spoil a movie.”

#

When they had the dreamatorium, they used to kiss each other all the time as they played other people. It would be sweet, but scripted. Troy had to constantly remind himself that, no, this wasn't Abed kissing him, it’d be Han Solo or Don Draper. 

But there was one time, where they rewatched _Inception_ , Troy was jumping up and down and shaking Abed’s shoulders in excitement because _holy shit he finally gets it_. And Abed looked at him and smiled and cupped his cheeks and kissed him full, kissed him as himself, and Troy found it a little hard to breathe. 

Kisses were nice. (Kisses _are_ nice. Even when they play other people, sometimes Troy can feel the softness leaking through that's so exclusively Abed.)

They slept on Troy’s bed that night, even though they both had their own rooms. It just became a habit they couldn't shake off.

Troy looked over at Abed, who’s already asleep next to him. He didn't tell him his lips still tingled, the ghost of the kiss still fresh on his mind. 

It felt like a tidal wave, crashing onto shore. Feelings he didn't realize he’s been pushing down travelled all around his body, in his hands when Abed held it, on his lips when Abed kissed it, in his heart whenever he's around him. 

But feelings are weird. Feelings are hard. Hard to say, hard to name. Hard to hide, especially when hiding feels so close to lying. 

He woke up with Abed looking right beside him. He laughed at the sight. “Are you staring at me?”

Abed answered, “Maybe. Is that okay?”

But Troy couldn't stop smiling, staring at Abed as the sun hit his skin. He looked golden, despite the fact that his hair (it goes curly in the morning) was sticking out in every direction. Troy wanted to reach up and push it back, so he did. His hair was soft under his hands. 

His heart was doing that thing again. 

Abed laughed. It's quiet and soft and Troy feels like it’s a laugh just for his ears. He asks, “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Troy said. But it wasn't nothing. It was so far from nothing. 

Troy finally put a name to the wave on the shore. 

He realized he's in love. 

#

They end their re-enactment the same way the movie does, with an arguably unearned kiss. 

The audience is clapping at them, which is the reaction Troy and Abed least expected. They take a bow, hands held together. They deserve an Oscar for this. 

They kiss again as they leave the theater, as them, for them. 

#

In another loop, they rewatch The Office and then rent a bouncy castle the next morning. 

“I’m pretty sure we’ll just die,” Troy says, looking down from the roof. He’s always been antsy about heights, never liked looking down at high places. He’s not even sure why he agreed to this. 

Abed squeezes his hand and Troy’s breathing starts to slow. 

“It doesn't hurt to try,” Abed replies. 

“Pretty sure it will.”

“Do you wanna back out?” It’s not teasingly, just genuine concern. Troy tears his eyes away from the ground and looks at Abed. 

“Nah, we’re doing this together.”

They wake up screaming. 

#

In one loop, they learn that the best thing in the cafeteria was the onion rings dipped in the sauce they put on the—what they would _guess_ to be—shawarma. 

They sit on the counter like in _Sixteen Candles_.

Troy listens as Abed narrates his rise to power like he was in _GoodFellas_. 

#

They get matching tattoos, a small "trobed" on their forearms in bold, cursive letters. It hurt a lot, and it was gone the next day, but sometimes Troy likes to trace a finger over where it used to be to remind himself it was there.

He looks at Abed right now, asleep beside him, arm curled up around a pillow. Something settles in him as he stares, tracing the features of the man he’s grown to memorize. It feels like an exhale, like a sigh he’s buried deep in his stomach, a sort of peace he never thought he’d feel. 

He stares a little longer, and smiles. 

#

Something's wrong, Abed observes. 

He’s good with patterns, good with noticing them. When Troy stayed, even if they did different crazy stuff almost every day, both of them got into a pattern. Wake up, waste time, sleep. 

It was a good system, one filled with laughs and kisses and sex in the most random places. The mornings Abed once dreaded, heart sinking at the thought of watching Troy leave again, became something to look forward to. Now, he always wakes up smiling. 

But something's wrong, and it starts with a pet store. 

They’ve been frequenting in a street they usually don't go to often. Troy sees a dog from the window of a shelter, jumping up and down, and drags Abed inside.

“Look how cute he is!” Troy is saying, a beagle puppy in his arm as he scratches its neck. 

The puppy looks at Abed. He says, “He's very cute.”

“Right?” Troy smiles, burying his nose into its fur and laughing. “We should adopt him.”

“ _Troy_.”

“ _Abed_ ,” he matches his tone. “C’mon! What's the harm?”

“We won't even have him tomorrow.”

“Yeah, so?”

Abed does a face. “We don't even have a name for him. And you know how bad I am at naming things.”

“I do, but I already have the perfect one!”

Abed looks at him expectantly. 

Troy pauses for dramatic effect, then, opening his palm up. gives him an invisible sandwich. “Chewbacca,” he says.

Abed stares at him for a few seconds, sighs, then smiles. “That is perfect.”

#

“Here's your new home—”

“For the day,” Abed reminds him. 

“—for the day. Welcome, Chewbacca, to Apartment 303!” Troy extends an arm and gestures to the living room while holding Chewie like a baby with another. 

He sets him down gently and they watch as the puppy skidders across the apartment, running into the walls with excitement. Its barks are small but energetic. Abed sees Troy put a hand over his chest.

“Aww!” He says, almost sounding like Annie. 

He hears her bedroom door close. Oh, it was Annie.

“Whose dog is that?” She asks, eyes softening at the sight. Chewbacca runs to her excitedly and she scoops him up in arms. 

“Ours,” Troy says.

“For now,” Abed reminds him. 

“I know, you don't have to keep telling me,” he replies. 

“Okay.”

#

They're on Troy's bed, Abed, Troy and Puppy Chewbacca between them. Abed’s scratching the back of his ear, smiling as he does. 

Troy bought a chew toy for him and is holding it up for him to get it, laughs when he does. Abed stares.

“I think you’re developing an attachment to him,” he says.

Troy makes a face. “What, and you’re not?”

“Not the point.”

“Then, what is your point?”

“You’re developing an attachment to him,” he repeats.

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“Troy,” he cautions.

“Doesn’t it ever bother you?” He changes the topic entirely, shifting and laying on his back, head on Abed’s lap. Chewbacca jumps onto his stomach and he laughs a little. 

“What does?”

“I don’t know,” a beat. “We’ll never see lil’ Chewie grow up.”

“He’s _lil’ Chewie_ now?””

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Troy repeats. When he looks up at him, his eyes look glassy. 

Abed answers honestly. “Not really.”

Chewbacca starts licking Troy’s face. The topic is dropped.

Abed regrets getting a dog.

#

Abed finds Troy crying into his pillow the next morning.

“I miss Chewbacca,” he says in fragments, words splintered by sobs as he rests his head on Abed’s shoulders.

He has a feeling this wasn't about Chewbacca anymore. 

“It's gonna be okay.”

“We’ll never see him grow up.”

Abed regrets getting a dog. 

#

Something's wrong, Abed observes. Troy no longer seems excited about the crazy stuff they’re gonna do. 

In one loop, Troy wants to go to bed at 7 pm.

“That's early,” Abed says from the living room. 

“Yeah,” Troy agrees. “But I’m tired, you know?”

Abed frowns. He doesn't know. 

#

He asks if Troy’s happy.

“Yeah, of course.”

#

To help Troy feel better, they rig a paintball game. 

How? It takes a few tries to get it right, and, by ‘a few tries’, Abed means about a hundred, around how many times it took him to win Hot Lava. 

When asked, the dean, though a bit wary, reluctantly agrees for the sake of their friendship. Which is great, because that would mean they won't have to use their blackmail material. 

The action-adventure homage movie they decide to give homage to is something akin to John Wick, where the two ways to win are to either kill everyone, or both of them. They’re a bounty, in a way, like the snitch in Harry Potter’s Quidditch, highly valuable but renders the game ultimately meaningless. 

They form an alliance with the study group. The first to betray them is Jeff. 

“It's nothing personal,” he's saying, pointing a gun at Troy. 

“It's everything personal, Jeff.” He replies, hands up. 

“Whatever.”

_Bang!_

#

There's a loop where they overhear the study group conspiring to take them down and that, he quotes, “They’re way too good in this game.”

“Is there a way to rig a paintball game?” Abed hears Britta say through the door. 

He hears Annie gasp, like she realizes something. She doesn't say what, though. 

#

Abed finds him and Troy in an unknown part of Greendale, bags over their heads as they sit back to back, a rope wrapped around them.

“Psst,” he hears Troy say. “Are you awake?”

“Yes. I didn't sleep.”

“Same. Were we kidnapped?”

“I think so.”

“ _How?_ ”

Then the bags are pulled off their heads. Abed is met with the sight of Annie in a Matrix-esque get up, smirking down at him while holding a gun to his face. 

He sees a poster of Patrick Swayze behind her. There is clay on the tables around them. From what he observes, they’re in the pottery room. 

“Hello, boys,” he hears Britta behind him say. He assumes she's in a similar outfit too. He’s starting to feel underdressed. “Are you two ready for closure?”

Troy scoffs at this. “What for?”

“T—” Britta hesitates, “Today’s your last day?”

“Oh, right.” 

And then Abed watches Annie look at Britta knowingly, the way she does when she figures out who the murderer is in the whodunnits they used to marathon. 

She says, “Told ya.”

Abed squints his eyes. “Told her what?”

“I bet the Britta and Annie of the other time loops didn't do _this_ , huh?”

He feels Troy straighten behind him. “Um—uh. What?”

Abed asks, “How did you know that?”

“So, we’re right?” Britta asks.

“Yes, you two did not kidnap us during the paintball game in alternate dimensions,” Abed says. “Now, explain how you know.”

“And make it clear and concise!” Troy requests. 

Abed adds, “And make it clear and concise.”

“You two are _way_ too skilled at paintball.” Britta explains. “Plus, Annie and I were in the same situation.” 

Annie nods to this. She continues, rather giddily, “It was during Shirley’s second wedding. That's how we got together.”

(“That's cute,” Troy says from behind him.)

Abed thinks, letting himself absorb this. “How did you get out?”

Annie laughs. “Nice try.”

“I was just asking.”

“We’ll give you the answer to your question,” she puts her hand on the chair and leans into Abed's ear. “When you help us win this.”

Troy shakes from the other chair in an attempt to get her attention. “Annie, that's my _boyfriend_.”

“Troy, I’m literally gay.”

Abed chimes in. “Why not just shoot us and win?”

“That's not fun.”

Troy whispers, “She has a point.”

Britta says, “This is taking too long. Do you guys want a way out or what?”

Abed says, “No, thank you,” the same time Troy says, “Yes, please!”

Silence.

Annie and Britta share a look. Troy seems to stiffen behind him. Abed doesn't know what to feel. 

Annie tips her head to the exit and he can hear footsteps. Britta is already outside when Annie holds the door behind her and says, “We’ll give you two some privacy.”

The door closes on its own. It's quiet again. 

Abed blinks. “You want to leave,” he says, more to himself than it is to Troy. 

He hears sighing. “Maybe.”

“You said you weren't ready.”

“I’ve been ready for a long time, Abed.”

“How do you know that?”

“I—I don't know, I’m not sure how to explain it. I just _know._ ”

A pause. A deep, sinking feeling. His heart is on the ground. He wiggles his fingers, taps them on the chair to feel something other than what he already is.

“But you said you were happy,” he says. 

“I am happy. I’m always happy with you.”

“But you still want to _leave?_ ”

Troy says, “Yes.” But Abed still doesn't understand.

“Why?”

A pause. Abed can't see Troy from behind him, wishing Annie untied them before they had this conversation. He wants to hold his hand, play with his fingers, eye the area he’d planned to slip a ring on if he could ask.

He remembers reading something about the red string of fate, tied around the pinky finger, something to lead you back to the person you are meant to be with. Abed isn't a big believer in soulmates, but if the string was real, he’ll ruin himself before he’ll ever let it cut. Like the way it did with his mom. The way it's cutting with his dad. It's so fragile and nimble and Abed wants to keep it safe to remind himself not everyone will leave him. 

But here's Troy, telling him he wants to do what everyone else in his life already did.

“It’s—It's not because of you,” Troy stammers, like he's reading Abed’s mind and trying to find the right words to say. “I just—I don't know myself yet, at least not fully. I _want_ to know myself, outside Greendale. Outside Colorado.”

_Outside of us. For now._

And that understanding comes back. It's a slow realization, that Troy leaving in every loop but one meant something so much more. 

There were signs, signs before the puppy, signs that Abed ignored. Times where Troy would let him lead him through the days, times of Troy excitedly talked about what he'd do on the boat. 

He thinks of Campbell’s hero’s journey, how the hero must leave his familiar beginnings to go on an adventure. Pierce said that Troy has the heart of a hero. Abed didn't understand it, at first. He could be a hero without having to sail around the world. But now he gets it, at least a little. 

When he experienced his first loop, the first thing he said was “Cool. Cool cool cool.”

He told Troy about it right after.

He was jumping up and down, eyes filled to brim with excitement. Abed stared, drinking in the sight of the love of his life, and realized he’s been given an infinite amount of chances to get him to stay.

He watched him leave so many times, on the boat, on the pier as he waved goodbye with a captain’s hat on. Abed watched but never thought it was permanent, the knowledge of waking up and having Troy still at Greendale was comforting. 

Abed thought Troy was leaving him behind for better, greater things. And Abed couldn't have that because, well, Troy was the greatest thing that could happen to him. He thought it was his universe-appointed job to make him stay. 

Now he realizes he has to let Troy go, with his hands, with his heart, with all of himself.

“Well,” he says. “I’d rather you leave than resent me.”

“I can never resent you.”

“You don't know that.”

“But I _do._ I might not know a lot about myself but I do know how I feel about you. I love you, Abed.”

“I love you, too.” A pause. “I’m staying.”

“ _What?_ ” Troy says. “No, you’re not. I’m not leaving without you.”

“But I wanna stay.”

“Then, I’m staying with you.”

Abed's getting a little frustrated. “No, doing that won't fulfill your hero’s journey.”

“What about _your_ hero’s journey, Abed?” His voice turning a little hysterical. 

“I don't have one. I’m not a hero.”

“You are.” He repeats, “And I'm not leaving without you.”

“But you already have,” Abed says, matter-of-factly, “You already left a hundred times before. But it's fine. I just don't wanna wake up to a morning where you're not here anymore.”

A beat.

“Well, I’m gonna come back.” Troy says, voice clear and steady, full of conviction. “But I can’t come back if you're stuck here.”

Another pause. It drags across the floor as Abed taps his foot on it. He lets the words stay in the air a little longer, the sentence that sounds too pretty to be true. But still he says, “Promise?”

And Troy answers, “I promise.”

For effect, his pinky finds Abed's. He hooks them together. 

#

They help Britta and Annie by guiding them through the halls of Greendale with a walkie-talkie and Chang’s old security monitor-filled office. 

The story has transcended to a heist film, Abed observes. He and Troy try to remember as much information of people’s whereabouts and when Britta and Annie have to stay alert. He feels himself inching to the edge of his seat. 

“Pizza Steve should be on your right,” Troy says into the transceiver. 

“No, Pizza Steve is in the Library,” Abed corrects. “ _Star-Burns_ is on your right.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Troy giggles as they watch them plow through a group of people with shaped-sideburns. Abed looks at him, a faint smile on his lips. Troy looks back and asks, “What is it?”

He kisses him softly. “Nothing.”

  
  


#

After Britta and Annie win the $50,000 dollars, they go back to the apartment. Annie beelines to her room, not even shutting her door, and pulls out a binder from her desk. It's thinner than her usual binders, and it has cursive letters on the front that says, “A Guide to Time-Loops and Portals.”

Troy’s eyes look like they're bulging out of his head when she puts it on the dinner table as they sit. “You’ve been hiding this this whole time?”

Annie makes a face. “You never asked, did you?”

“No,” he says, slightly pouting. 

Abed feels Annie’s hand on his shoulder. When he looks up at her, tearing his eyes away from Troy, she looks concerned. Her voice is filled with worry when she says, “Abed? Are you okay?”

And he realizes there are tears in his eyes. “Yes,” he says, “I’m okay.”

It just feels too real now. 

He looks at Troy from across the table. He has the booklet open, fingering the corner of the page about to turn it, but he's staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Two more days,” Abed pleads. “Can we have two more days, please?”

Troy softens. Troy _softens_. His gaze turns a little lighter, his eyes crinkling on the corners. His smile turns lopsided, small but full of heart and love that Abed aches just a bit. He wishes he can take pictures with his mind, so he can see Troy’s face every time he closes his eyes. He’s never seen anyone else look at him with so much unbridled love. 

When he speaks, it's barely above a whisper, using a voice not many people get to hear. Abed doesn't know how to describe it, the rasps and the pauses and the sound are all just _different._ He says, “We can have two more days.”

#

They reserve their second last day just for them.

They brainstormed about ideas for how to make it extra _extra_ special, if they should rent a limo and a rooftop party with champagne and big names. But halfway through bouncing off ideas with each other, they realize that the day doesn't have to be special. 

It could be just for _them_.

Abed heats up buttered noodles while Troy prepares special drink. They stay in the living room holding hands, watching TV, trying not to think about what's gonna happen after tomorrow because you shouldn't always think about the future. 

It's weird, how normal this is and how much it’s gonna be missed, looking at Troy as he sobs once again to Nemo reuniting with his dad, or to the end of _The Bridge on the River Kwai_. To movies they’ve watched a hundred times before. 

They don't let go of each other's hands all day.

#

Abed sleeps with Troy again, even though he knows he’ll wake up in the bunk bed. 

He tries to stay awake, grasp at the fleeting conscious thoughts floating in his head as he looks up at the ceiling. 

He remembers when Troy once told him about what Britta said to him. How people who are truly yours will come back to you. At the time, he was ranting about the impracticality of the statement, but Abed finally understands what it means. It's sort of peaceful, the understanding. 

Because there's no doubt in his mind that Troy won't come back to him.

#

Troy wakes up at 6:30 am. It's January 22, Friday. 

His last day. 

His _last_ last day. 

Annie doesn't get to knock. He opens the door before she could. 

She looks at him, softening. “I’m gonna miss you _so_ much,” she says, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. 

He smiles, doing the same, and says, “I’m gonna miss you too.”

He hears Annie _Aw!_ before she lets go, smiling giddily as she holds his shoulders and take in the sight of him. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” Troy says, his thumb pointing back. 

“Well, hurry up,” she says, though her voice doesn't sound that serious. “Abed’s already at school.”

#

Troy planned to feign his surprise when Annie showed him their surprise going away party. 

It becomes real when he sees that Abed's there, for the first time, seated where he usually does. Troy smiles and then gasps as he puts his hands over his chest, because right next to him is a—

“ _Friendly Neighborhood Football Cake!_ ” He says, jumping up and down with excitement. He goes to his seat, kissing Abed on the way, and settles down as Annie gets their group gift.

(As Abed leans into the kiss, he stops midway and, in a hushed tone just for him, says, “Meet me behind the llibrary tonight.” Which Troy thinks is kinda sexy.)

“Here's a gift from _all_ of us!” Annie excitedly slides the universal translator to him. 

He holds it. “Bueno!”

A robotic voice comes out. “ _Cool!_ ”

Shirley smiles, “Aw, that’s nice.”

“Let's not forget it's okay to be sad, too.” Britta interjects, in a very Britta way. 

Jeff says something quippy, Britta retorts, Shirley deadpans, “We know.”

“Guys,” Troy cuts in. “Britta’s right.”

Jeff makes a face. “She is?”

“I am?” She says, almost as shocked as Jeff. 

“Yeah!” Troy says. He holds the translator in his hands, staring at it. He says something in Spanish. 

It translates, “I’m gonna miss all of you so much.”

Shirley and Annie both say, “Aww!” But Troy’s not done. 

“Sailing around the world is _crazy_. And, honestly, I’m really scared. I know there won't be a day when I won't miss you guys. But, I can't wait to—”

He pauses. He looks at Abed. His eyes are glassy when he says, “to go on my Hero’s Journey.”

“Oh, Troy,” Britta wipes a tear from the corner of her eye with her sleeve. “When did you learn Spanish?”

#

Troy goes to the back of the library to see Abed staring at the mini dreamatorium with a lighter and gasoline in hand. 

Troy says, eyebrows up, “We’re gonna _burn_ it?”

“Annie’s booklet said we should blow it up,” Abed explains. “I thought that was too much.”

Troy checks the time. “It said to destroy it at 7:30, right?”

“Yeah.”

It's 7:15.

Troy has to go at 8. 

He stands next to Abed. “I’m gonna miss you.”

And he already is, even if it doesn't make a lot of sense. But things don't have to make sense. 

Abed says, “I miss you too.”

Troy looks at him, under the flickering light from the library windows. He pulls his jacket sleeve over his palm again and reaches out to Abed's hand but Abed retracts it. His heart drops, at least until he watches him pull his sleeve too and grabs his hand. 

He says, “It took me a while to get what you meant.”

“It's cute, right?”

“You're cute,” Abed glances over at him. The soft look he had becomes somber.

Troy frowns. “What is it?”

“I feel like if we kiss, it'll feel like a goodbye.”

“Then let’s not kiss yet.”

The dreamatorium slowly crumbles into ashes when they set it on fire at 7:30. 

#

Abed accompanies Troy to the pier tonight. He knows Troy doesn't remember, but there was a loop where he gives Abed a keychain of a world map. He kept it in his pocket but the next day it was gone. He wonders where it went. 

The sky is spectacular, he realizes. Troy looks amazing under it. 

LeVar Burton puts a captain’s hat on his head and heads to the boat. 

Troy and Abed are on the pier. Troy's standing on an elevated platform leading up to the entrance of the boat. He’s standing a little taller than Abed right now. When they hug, Abed finally learns what it feels like to rest his chin on Troy's shoulder. 

When they let go, Troy’s cupping his cheeks, looking at him with glassy eyes. He blinks. 

“I wanna kiss you right now.”

Abed pauses, taking a moment not to look at him and asks, “Not goodbye kiss?”

“Not goodbye kiss.”

Kisses were nice. Kisses _are_ nice. Even when his heart aches, Abed can never feel anything but love in Troy’s kisses. 

#

Imagine this: January 23, 6:00 AM. 

Abed Nadir stands on a port in LA. 

Troy Barnes comes back 3 years later. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @/trobedcore :D


End file.
